


Less Than A Memory, More Than A Dream

by Macx



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Malcolm! Mal!"<br/>Someone touched his face and he was tugged into an embrace. Instinctively he clung to that presence until he registered who it was.<br/>Trip.<br/>His attacker.<br/>Trip, who had tried to kill him.<br/>He pushed away and scrambled back, one hand reaching for his throat. He met the confused and hurt blue eyes. "Trip..." he stammered. "I..."<br/>"You fear me," the engineer whispered, realization hitting him.<br/>"No!" He shook his head.<br/>"You are terrified of me. My touch..." Trip's voice wavered and his face mirrored the emotional pain he felt at the revelation.<br/>Reed fell against the wall behind him and sank to the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Than A Memory, More Than A Dream

 

Malcolm Reed turned in his bed, blinking sleep out of his eyes. His quarters were still dark and the clock told him it wasn't even seven yet. He felt something rest across his stomach. Reed turned his head and smiled as he discovered the disheveled, blond head of Trip Tucker. Tucker was still asleep, his face buried in Malcolm's side, one arm flung over the smaller man's waist, and his legs were sticking out of the bed. Reed twisted carefully, trying not to wake his lover, but the small movement resulted in the arm tightening around him.  
"Mornin'," an accented drawl greeted him.  
"Light sleep again?" Reed teased, smiling as he turned up the lights a little.  
"Wakin' up anyway," was the reply. Trip tightened his hold more and squinted a little as the let his eyes adjust to the low setting of the quarter lights. "Where're yer at this time o'night?" he mumbled.  
"Bathroom run. I'll be back."  
"'kay."  
When Malcolm returned, Trip had rolled onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes. The blanket was pooled around his waist, one leg showing up to the hip. He just stood there, studying his lover and partner, letting his eyes wander over the smooth planes of the muscular chest to the firm belly. His fingers twitched, as if they could remember the touch of the smooth skin, the warmth, the hard muscles. He licked his lips. Two years and his desire hadn't really waned; if at all, it had changed into something new, something that bound him closely to this man. Something he couldn't explain and didn't want to miss anymore, even if he had never been aware of its absence.  
As Reed crawled back into the shared bed, the arm came off and blue eyes watched him. The bed was large for one person and just about right for two. Not for regular double-sleeping, but it was very nice for cuddling and falling asleep in each other's arms. It was exactly what had happened last night, when Trip had returned from his shift, too tired to even eat.  
Malcolm leaned forward and gave the engineer a kiss. Trip's tongue met his and he snaked a hand upward, underneath his lover's shirt, stroking the bare skin. The kiss deepened, both languidly exploring the well-known mouth of the other. After some time, the need for air made them separate, but Trip's hand was still running warmly over his ribs. Reed slid over the prone man's thighs and smiled when he felt the first signs of Tucker's arousal through the thin material of his sleep shorts. Trip pushed the shirt up and Malcolm lost it only too willingly. Strong hands spread over his chest and abdomen, massaging him, teasing hardening nipples. A mouth laved his sensitive spots with wetness, then blew air on them, making him bit his lower lip.  
Reed leaned over him once more, lips meeting. He had meant to keep the kiss gentle, but it ended up hungry, deep, hard, wet and demanding. Those infuriating fingers were back, exploring lines of muscle under Malcolm's skin, fingernails raking gently over them, leaving faint, red marks that would soon vanish. As Reed's mouth trailed over Tucker's shoulder and neck, Trip let his head fall back submissively, shivering as one highly sensitive spot was given special attention until he cried out as Malcolm nipped at it briefly.  
The armory officer sat back, smiling at the slightly dazed expression in his lover's eyes. Trip's hands were back on his stomach, caressing the flat planes, playing with the waistband of his shorts, but never really dipping deeper. A slow, lazy smile spread on the sun-tanned features, blue eyes unguarded and holding an emotion meant for only one man. Malcolm leaned back over him, rocking their hips together, swallowing the low moan in his mouth.  
They had time today. Trip had another late shift and Reed wasn't expected on the bridge for another three hours. Time enough for a little playing around, for some slow loving, and Malcolm intended to make the most of it.

Trip ran his hand over the sweat-slicked skin of his lover, smiling to himself as he listened to the younger man who was trying to slow down his breathing. Damn, it had been intense. He had reached a screaming climax, falling into an abyss of incredible pleasure, a sensation he only felt with this man. Malcolm himself had collapsed into Tucker's arms, trembling with the strong reactions to his own release, and both men were just holding each other now. After a while, Malcolm moved, moaning softly as he slipped out of Trip, who echoed the sound of displeasure.  
"What a nice way to wake up," the engineer whispered, running his hands through the damp hair.  
Reed kissed him slowly, lovingly. "Gets the body going," he murmured.  
"Still got some time."  
"Love what we're doing now," was the soft reply.  
"Mmm-hm."  
Trip had never thought that snuggling with his lover would be feeling so nice, but it was. He liked having the warm, pliant weight in his arms, feeling his breath, his heartbeat, and his smiles. Even after two years, the feeling hadn't changed. Oh, they had had fights, too. Every couple had. Relationships weren't based on having the same opinions all the time. Hell, Trip couldn't imagine Malcolm giving in without a fight and he wouldn't want it. It wouldn't be Malcolm. Most of the fights were work-related anyway. Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker were heads of their respective departments and sometimes interests collided. Trip only once had to pull rank. It had been painful, it had smarted, but they had worked through it. While on duty, they maintained their professional distance. No body contact other than what was necessary. No love-sick puppy-dog-eyes, no secret smiles, no smooching in the elevator. What happened behind the closed doors of their private quarters was one thing, what happened in public and on duty another. They could keep it apart. It wasn't like they were the only couple either. There was one other same-sex relationship between two of the science officers, but the two women kept it as low profile as them.

After some time, Malcolm had to move. He quieted Trip's protests with a kiss, then smiled as he was kept in place and his mouth was thoroughly plundered.  
"I have to be punctual," he murmured. "If I'm late, Captain Archer might send out the search team."  
"Let him," Trip chuckled. "He knows where yer at."  
"Uh-huh." Reed detached himself and padded over to the shower. "I wouldn't want to have him standing here."  
"Why? Haven't you evah thought of a threesome?" he drawled lazily.  
"What?! With the captain?"  
Trip's eyes danced with mischief. "Well.... if ya don't want him, how about someone else?"  
"Trip!"  
"C'mon, confess it, Mal. You thought about it..."  
Malcolm stared at him, stunned. Then he gathered his dignity around him. "No. Anyway, I doubt you would last through it."  
"Hey, what's that supposed ta mean?"  
Reed grinned puckishly. "You nearly went out on me just now, lover. How do you want to survive two men if the second participant doesn't even get your full attention any more?" With that he fled into the bathroom.  
Trip laughed out loud, shaking his head. British reserve? Shy? Not what came to mind when he thought of Malcolm Reed. He lay back onto the bed, arms crossed underneath his head, a smile on his features. Damn, he was lucky. Real lucky.

* * *

Two days later, Enterprise came across a small planet that roused Jonathan Archer's interest. An Away Team was assembled and sent down.  
The world around them was a rocky and inhospitable. Wind swept wildly through the narrow gaps in the stunted trees and a thin, persistent rain that was more like a heavy mist trickled down out of a sky the color of unwashed linen. In one direction there was nothing but thick, tangled undergrowth and in the other the ground ran roughly down into a valley as deep as the Grand Canyon only not so picturesque. Something hidden in the trees was wailing like a banshee. Trip looked at the horizon where lightning could be seen.  
"Nice," he commented. "This place would make a lousy vacation spot."  
The probe sent down from Enterprise had shown no danger except maybe rough winds and rain, and Archer had given them a green light. After the almost fatal experience of the first planet they had stepped on, without prior investigation of the air, water, soil, fauna and flora, everyone had become very cautious. Reed, who had insisted to go down as security, smiled at his remark. Like all team members he was clad in water absorbing clothes, already dripping slightly from the steady stream of rather cold water from the sky.  
"Okay, everyone!" Trip called. "Spread out and let's take a look around. No one wanders too far, understood?"  
Aside from him and Reed, T'Pol and two additional crewmen had come planetside. They nodded and started their exploration.

* * *

Malcolm Reed wiped some stray raindrops out of his eyes and scanned the area once more. They had been on this world for nearly a day now, getting a rough grid map established of the area. They had not met a single soul, no sign of life except animal life forms. The rain had ceased a few hours after their arrival - much to everyone's relief. The whole landscape seemed to consist more of canyons than anything else. From where he stood he saw a desolate vista of bare rocks and jagged hills, through which whistled a savage wind that tugged at him. Dark clouds churned overhead threatening more rain, and now and again a few drops fell. But the ground beneath him was deeply dry, and only dust rode the wind, sometimes thick enough to envelop him and obscure his vision, sometimes just creeping along the ground to wrap around his ankles like smoke. Occasionally it hid the distant horizon, the valley that lay spread out beyond him, huge and staggeringly rough, as if a long-ago river had churned violently along the plain, eating it away in huge gulps. Ten feet beyond his booted feet, the ground dropped away as if it had been cut with a serrated knife.  
"What a planet," he muttered and turned back, descending the slope he had climbed to where Baker was waiting.  
From the biologist's expression, he had not made any groundbreaking discoveries either. They silently walked back into the small valley they had come from to get to the meeting point where T'Pol, Trip and Ross, their geologist, might already be waiting. Archer had given them two days for their explorations, expecting daily updates, which he had gotten.  
The valley wasn't very promising either. In the distance, a series of broken ridges rose high overhead with what looked like narrow passes winding through them. Near where the meeting point was the ground rose slowly but steadily in a series of rough and jagged steps as if giants had once used this way as a staircase. Loose scree filled in the hollows in the stone passage, guaranteed to tumble the unwary head over heels. Here and there a barren tree found a hold in the rocky ground, thrusting up bare, dead branches toward the leaden sky.  
"Anything?" Reed asked as they approached the waiting group.  
Trip shook his head. "Nothing."  
"I have detected several signs of life forms," T'Pol added calmly, "but as we already determined up on Enterprise, they can't be very far advanced."  
The wind howled around them as if agreeing with him.  
"And the weather's not exactly very friendly either," Tucker muttered.  
"Crewman Ross and I will return to Enterprise," the Vulcan continued. "The sensors and scanners are far better suited for an evaluation of the additional data."  
Trip just nodded. "I thought about taking a few pics of the caves we discovered."  
"Sounds like fun," Malcolm remarked dryly.  
"Might be. Wanna come along? I'm sure there's a fungus that wants to get to know you," was the easy reply.  
Reed chuckled. "Why not? A cave sounds better than this dusty place."

* * *

The cave was incredible. The ceiling stretched far overhead and it appeared to be almost endless. It was covered with damp stalactites, huge mountains hanging upside down. Several reached to the floor to form gigantic pillars. Many were too big to look around and they appeared like a natural colonnade.  
"The cave must be several miles long," Malcolm murmured.  
"Actually, it's about five miles in diameter," Baker reported, looking at his scanner.  
An underground lake lapped at the rocky shore. The stone had been washed smooth by the repeatedly crashing waves, and gleamed with moisture. Moss was growing on the rocks, glowing in the darkness like a kind of natural lighting system. The dark surface of stone stretched into the cave. Everything was glistening wetly. There was a lot of that plant life, crawling over the walls, hanging from the ceiling like a living curtain, and now and then he saw small creatures among the dizzying jungle of moss.  
Trip took out his camera and started snapping pictures.  
From outside, a deep rumble could be heard. The weather had changed just half an hour ago, shortly after the shuttle had departed. Reed ran his hand along a tunnel wall, wondering how rough rock could be so smooth. Fungus was growing around the tunnel in almost regular patches and it shed enough light for them to see. It was like walking into a lit room at night when the lights are dimmed.  
Something moved.  
Malcolm stopped and turned into the general direction of the movement, but all he could see was the darkness, pierced by the white beam of his flashlight.  
"Malcolm? What is it?" Trip called.  
"I... nothing," Reed decided. "Shadows."  
The blond chuckled. "Afraid of the dark?"  
Reed grimaced. "No, commander. Not at all."  
Trip's grin widened and they continued their exploration. But something nagged at Malcolm's mind and his body grew more and more tense.  
Suddenly he heard a low rumbling noise and the earth shook. An earthquake? Seismographic analysis hadn't shown any instabilities. Another tremor made him change his mind.  
"Earthquake!" Trip yelled.  
And then the ground gave way.  
"No!" Reed exclaimed as he saw his lover disappear into the ground, followed by the hapless crewman who had been next to him.  
"Trip!" He skidded to a halt and stared at the black abyss in front of him. "Commander? Baker?" Panic rose inside of him. Cautiously he crept closer to the hole and peered down. Nothing.  
Keep calm, Malcolm. Just keep calm. Panic won't get you anywhere. Reed briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, shoving the panic out of his mind as he had been taught. He felt calmness settle, felt the professional step forward and take over while the frightened lover sat back and watched in silence.  
"Commander Tucker?" he tried again. "Anybody hear me?"  
"Malcolm?" The voice was coming from far away, but it was definitely Trip's.  
If he squinted he could make out the ground below him in the twilight.  
"Commander!" Relief hit him and he heard his voice tremble. Not now! He had a job to do. The lover stepped back again, fretting still, and the security officer firmly reached for the reins. With an effort Reed calmed down. "Are you two all right?"  
"Baker's got a nasty bruise, but otherwise we're fine. Looks like we landed on somethin' very soft. Sand from the looks of it. Can't tell exactly. The scanner's broke."  
"I'll call Enterprise for help. Just stay calm."  
"No problem, Malcolm, I ..... what the hell.......?"  
"Commander Tucker?" Malcolm had heard the change of tone in Trip's voice. "Trip? What's happening?"  
No answer.  
"Trip? Baker?"  
Again no answer.  
"Trip! Answer me!"  
Reed felt new panic rise inside of him. This time it was a panic he couldn't suppress. He got up, wildly looking around for something to use to get down to his friends, then pulled out his communicator.  
"Reed to Enterprise."  
It was as far as he got. Another earthquake shook the ground. The lieutenant screamed as he lost his balance and fell into the hole.

* * *

Ensign Hoshi Sato tilted her head as she tried to contact one of their Away Team members. There had been a short burst of static, then Lieutenant Reed's voice over the com lines, calling Enterprise, and after that, only more static.  
"Hoshi?" Archer asked, looking quizzically at her.  
"I can't raise either Commander Tucker or Lieutenant Reed," she reported.  
A frown appeared on Archer's forehead. "Keep trying."  
"Yes, sir."

* * *

Trip's black-out had been brief, no more than a few seconds, but damn, his head hurt! Looking around, he discovered that he had fallen into some kind of large chamber. The meager light coming through the hole in the ceiling/ground above showed him he sat right in the middle of a natural cavern, tiny compared to the one above. Fine, soft sand covered the floor and there was a kind of altar at the far end. All around them, the wall was painted with strange symbols and there were signs carved onto the stone pillars that seemed to support the ceiling.  
A soft moan made him turn. Crewman Baker lay not far away and was just coming round.  
"You okay?" Trip asked and crawled over to the man.  
Baker sat up, gingerly touching his head. "What happened?"  
"Seems like we took a little detour." Tucker looked him over. Other than some bruises he seemed fine.  
"Where are we?"  
"Beats me. Looks like some kind of underground altar room to me. Guess we found signs of civilization after all."  
Baker nodded and with Trip's help made it into a standing position. "Look at all those paintings! What do you think they are?"  
"Not a clue."  
"Commander? Anybody hear me?" a voice called from above.  
Trip felt a smile grow on his lips. "Malcolm!"  
"Commander!" Reed sounded relieved. "Are you two all right?"  
"Baker's got a nasty bruise, but otherwise we're fine. Looks like we landed on somethin' very soft. Sand from the looks of it. Can't tell exactly. The scanner's broke." Tucker looked ruefully at the small device, which he had apparently crushed when he had fallen.  
"I'll call Enterprise for help. Just stay calm."  
"No problem, Malcolm, I ..... what the hell.......?"  
All of a sudden the light in the chamber had changed. It turned a yellowish green and seemed to come from one of the carvings above the altar. Baker saw it too and his mouth dropped open. The carving seemed to come to life! The arms and the head of the figure moved. Then the eyes seemed to look at them.  
"Commander Tucker?" Malcolm's worried cry was lost in the strange, melodious sound emitting from everywhere around them.  
Trip felt drawn to the carving, stepping forward, forgetting all about the crewman.  
Whispers echoed in the room.  
<I choose him>

Baker was still mesmerized by the yellowish green light and simply stared after his superior, who closed the distance between himself and the altar. Suddenly the carved figure detached one ghostly, half transparent arm from the wall and reached out for the human. Baker finally found his voice again.  
"Commander! Sir!"  
He tried to step forward to keep Tucker from getting closer to the ghostly figure, but found he was fixed to the spot by something unknown, something powerful.  
Trip stopped in front of the altar and looked at the carving, reaching for the hand that stretched towards him. As they touched there was a bright light and Baker closed his eyes. The earth shook again. He heard someone scream behind him and there was a muffled 'whouff'. Then the light subsided and Tucker turned back to Baker again.  
The crewman shivered involuntarily as he looked into the white orbs that had once been Commander Tucker's eyes. They seemed to burn brightly from inside. He looked at Baker with a cold expression on his face, lifting one hand. Baker felt like hit by a huge fist and was thrown backwards. Something seemed to crush him, driving all the air out of his lungs. There was a burning feeling in his chest that gradually increased. With a yell of pain he collapsed.  
"A good choice," Trip said, addressing no one in particular. His voice was flat, his gaze empty.  
The whispers were back.  
Baker blinked away tears of pain as he stared up to the figure that wasn't his commanding officer any more.  
"Commander? Sir?" he croaked. The burning in his chest eased, but he felt weak and lifeless.  
"Your friend no longer exists. There is only me."  
The other man felt shock seep through him. Suddenly someone touched his shoulder. He started and turned his head. It was Lieutenant Reed. The armory officer looked battered and bruised and his face was a pale mask. His gray-blue eyes were fixed on Tucker and he patted Baker's shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Then he moved, so he was between the fallen man and ... the creature. Baker noticed that Reed was limping and that there was a small, dark stain on the torn left leg of his uniform leg, which was gradually getting larger. Reed must have hurt himself when falling, Baker realized.  
Soft whispering touched the edge of their conscious mind.

<I like this one. He will be mine>  
<A new species. Let us test their threshold>

The fall had been painful and he had felt something bite deep into his leg when he had landed, but Malcolm quickly ignored his own problems when he took in the scene before him. Baker lay on the ground, looking out of breath and frightened, while Trip loomed above him. When Malcolm looked into his lover's face, he felt shock seep into him. It wasn't Trip's face any more. The eyes were white, alien, and the expression liked carved out of stone. No longer human.  
Now he stood between the fallen crewman and Trip, trying to shove the increasing pain from his leg into a far corner of his mind.  
"Who are you?" the lieutenant asked, his voice controlled, his eyes never leaving Trip's face.  
White eyes fixed him and Malcolm shuddered. "You have been chosen for the challenge."  
Challenge?  
"Chosen for what challenge?" Malcolm asked, wishing the captain or T'Pol were here. They had more experience with first contact and pissed-off aliens.  
"For us," was the simply reply that didn't explain a thing.  
"I..." Malcolm swallowed, trying to ignore the white eyes that weren't Trip's. "There was an earthquake. We fell through the collapsing ground. We will leave peacefully. We..."  
"You have been chosen." The possessed man stepped closer.  
Reed gulped, but refused to move. "Please...listen to me. I apologize for any inconvenience. The moment I contact our ship, we can leave."  
Trip gazed emptily at him. "Do you refuse the challenge?"  
Malcolm clenched his jaw until it hurt. Suddenly Trip's face seemed to shift in shape and became more and more alien. His skin appeared to be made of glass and had a decidedly silvery shine to it.  
"If you'd just listen. There is no need to kill us ....! There must be a way!"  
Trip smiled coldly. "You have been chosen for the challenge. It is your choice to refuse and cease, or to accept."  
"What kind of challenge?" Malcolm asked.  
"That is for me to decide. "  
"That's blackmail!" Baker called from behind Reed.  
Trip cocked one eyebrow, then raised his hand. Baker gasped in pain and surprise, clutching his throat. Reed whirled round, seeing the crewman's face turn red as he tried to breathe.  
"No! Let him go! What do you want?"  
"Do you accept the challenge?"  
Baker's lips were already turning bluish and his eyes bulged.  
"Yes, yes, I do! Now let him go!"  
Baker fell back, gasping for air and Malcom limped over to him. "Baker? Are you all right?"  
The man nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay." He grabbed Reed's arm. "Sir, you can't accept the challenge. You're hurt!" His voice was a hoarse whisper.  
The armory officer looked at the now much larger stain on his left leg. It hurt like hell, to be honest.  
"It's nothing much," he lied. "Just a scratch."  
"I will accept the challenge," the crewman suddenly said, looking at Tucker.  
"No!" Reed's determined voice broke in. "No, he doesn't. It's between me and you, okay? He goes free!"  
"Lieutenant..."  
"No, Baker, you listen to me. I'm the security officer aboard Enterprise. I've been trained to handle these situations."  
Well, not exactly those, he thought wryly.  
"But you were injured."  
"I'm fine, Ensign." Reed straightened.  
"Choose now."  
Trip let his eyes fall on Baker and the crewman suddenly gasped in pain, his face turned red, and he clawed at his throat. Reed tried to touch the geologist, but something blocked him off. Something that gave him an electrical shock. The lieutenant fell back, holding his smarting hand, his gray eyes fixed on Tucker. Was it his imagination or were the white eyes changing? There seemed to be a flicker of the old color, the blue iris. So Trip was still there somewhere. Within seconds he came to a decision. With yell Malcolm jumped at the possessed man. He hit him around the waist and both went down. A scream of outrage tore from the commander's lips and his hands clamped around Reed's throat.  
Reed gasped as the hands held him like steel claws. Pure white orbs gleamed at him.  
"Foolish move," the thing hissed and squeezed harder.  
Malcolm saw dark spots dance in front of his eyes as he tried to catch some air. He curled his hands into fist and hit the other man in the ribs as hard as he could. There wasn't a single reaction except maybe for the changing eye color again. Reed hit him again, regretting every punch he had to administer to his friend and lover, and this time he looked into the blue eyes of Charles 'Trip' Tucker, who was utterly confused. The steel claws around Reed's neck loosened and he crawled away as fast as he could, gasping for air and rubbing his sore throat.  
"No!" The anguished cry came from Trip, who held his head in his hands and trembled badly. "No, I won't do it!" The aura was still there.  
Reed stumbled over to Baker, checking his fellow crewman for injuries. Except for being weak and only half conscious Baker seemed fine. "Can you walk?" Malcolm asked in a rough voice, his throat feeling like sand paper. He watched the continuing battle of Trip against his 'guest' with one eye.  
"I .... I guess so," Baker croaked and tried to get up. He nearly fell down again.  
"Listen, Baker. Listen well. Try to get out of here."  
"But..." Baker objected weakly, blinking to clear his eyes.  
"No 'buts'. Get help! Now!" Reed pushed the communicator into his hands. "Get out of here and contact Enterprise. I'll hold him off."  
Baker, who was still dizzy, reacted to the authority in Malcolm's voice and nodded. Reed turned back to the battle at hand. Trip had apparently lost it because slowly, very slowly, the blond stood up, the former blue eyes a pure white again.  
"Fight it, Trip!" Reed begged, eyes fixing the engineer with a pleading stare. "I know you can! I know you're still in there! Fight it!"  
"You are not allowed to leave."  
Baker gave a harsh scream and was suddenly flung against the wall. He crumbled to the ground and lay still.  
"No!"  
Trip's hands lifted and Malcolm retreated. And then the pain came again. The dark-haired man screamed and collapsed on the sandy ground. Oh gawd....!

* * *

Sounds.  
The soft blipping -- of a monitor.  
The hum -- of warp engines.  
An underlying noise - life support.  
Voices.  
He heard the accent. Dr. Phlox.  
A deeper voice. Jon? Yes, it had to be him.  
Trip tried to pry his eyes open and it felt like lifting weights. There was a grainy, sticky feeling surrounding his eyelids and he blinked several times until the soft light of sickbay finally penetrated his eyes.  
"Ah, Commander Tucker," Phlox's voice echoed in his ears. "You are finally awake."  
"What...?" Trip tried, his own voice rough and sandpapery. "What happened?"  
"You are aboard Enterprise. In sickbay. Try to relax," the doctor instructed.  
Trip focused on the portly Denublian and blinked again, clearing his sight. Phlox held one of his instruments and was entering some data, then grabbed a hypo spray and pressed it against his neck.  
"How do you feel, Commander? Any pain? Discomfort?"  
Trip thought about it. His head was clearing, probably thanks for the injection.  
"No," he murmured, voice tired and his accent was thicker than usual. "Nothin'. Ah'm actually feelin' pretty good."  
"Good. Good. You have a few bruises, probably from your fall through the hole. Otherwise, everything seems to be in order."  
Something nagged at the back of Trips mind. He didn't know why, but he had expected something worse. But why? He closed his eyes. They snapped open again when his awaking mind remembered something. "Malcolm!"  
"Lieutenant Reed is fine, too," he was reassured. "He is still sleeping in the other biobed."  
"How bad...?"  
"Like you, he has some bruises. Nothing too serious that bed rest and sleep won't cure."  
Trip frowned as the nagging grew. No, no, there was something wrong here, but what? He tried to chase down the thought, but it stayed out of reach and finally dissipated. He turned his head and discovered Malcolm's dark head not far away. He was sleeping. The shadow of a beard was visible on his pale features.  
"What happened?" Tucker asked again.  
Phlox frowned slightly. "That is a question even the captain would like to have answered. Speaking of which, he asked to be called when you are awake. If you wish, I can hold him off for a while, though. You are still exhausted."  
Trip shook his head. "No, call him. I want some answers, too."

Much to his dismay, there weren't any answers that satisfied either of the two men.  
"Malcolm called Enterprise, but the contact broke off after the first contact. Hoshi couldn't raise him and suddenly the biosigns disappeared," Jonathan Archer told his chief engineer and best friend. "We rediscovered Baker after a while and I sent down T'Pol with a team. You were both unconscious when they found you in that cave, covered in some slime. Phlox said it's an organic compound, but he can't determine what kind of animal or plant left it on you."  
Trip stared at his friend. His memories of the cave were still jumbled. He remembered exploring it, the earthquake, his fall. Then there were empty patches. It was frightening to have no idea at all. Emotions surged from time to time. Anger, fear, desperation, and the pain. But they belonged to a hole in his mind.  
"T'Pol and a science team swept the cavern, but we found no traces or any intelligent life. There are animals, deeper inside, probably subterranean, but no signs of civilization." Archer looked displeased by not having a solution to the puzzle.  
How do you think I feel? Trip thought. I was there and I can't remember a thing.  
Except for the pain and confusion.  
"Baker mentioned some kind of chamber with runes. We couldn't find anything," Archer added. "We found him outside the cavern, unconscious, but he came to immediately and Phlox gave him some sedatives. He has already been released and is doing fine."  
A soft moan from the second biobed made him turn his head and he was about to attempt rising from his own biobed, when Archer's hand pushed him back down.  
"Stay," the captain said sternly and walked over to Reed, but the lieutenant didn't wake. "Phlox said he might be out a bit longer. You know how Malcolm reacts to some sedatives."  
"Yeah, I know." They knocked him out pretty good, Trip mused. "As long as he's goin' to be all right..."  
Archer smiled. "He will be."  
There was a longing expression in Trip's eyes. He wanted to get over there, touch his lover, reassure himself personally that this was no dream. Jon patted his shoulder.  
"Give yourselves a few more hours. I'm sure Phlox will let you recuperate in your own quarters."  
"Yeah."  
He was feeling sleepy once more.  
"I'll come back later, Trip. Sleep well."  
Tucker mumbled something, already half asleep once more.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Trip had been released from sickbay, under the stern advise to come see the doctor should he experience any problems, like headaches or dizziness. Malcolm had been awake and alert when he had been allowed to leave. Due to Reed's sensitivity to the sedative, he was expected to stay until this evening. Even Trip's promise to watch him hadn't convinced Phlox to release him.  
So now he sat in a small, private lounge, a glass of iced tea in hand, watching the stars go by. Enterprise had left the strange planet a few hours after the science team had come back, reporting no new discoveries.  
"Somethin' happened to us down there, Jon," the engineer mumbled. "Somethin' I can't remember."  
Archer nursed his own glass of tea, looking thoughtfully at him. "You might want to ask Phlox about it. If you had an encounter, if your memories were altered, he might be the best to find out."  
"He ran all kinds of scans on both me and Malcolm, Jon. We're fine. And I won't let mahself get hypnotized."  
The captain chuckled. "How's Malcolm?"  
"Fine. Slept a lot. We talked a little, and he told me he feels the same. Seems like he's rememberin' somethin'. Like a dream. Just... it isn't a dream. It's real... and again, it isn't. The harder I try to remember, the worse it gets."  
Trip sighed and emptied his glass, placing it on the table next to him. The stars had a dreamlike, but very calming quality to them. His still frazzled nerves were healing just watching them.  
"Phlox analyzed the slime that covered the two of you," Jon went on. "He's a bit puzzled by it. Seems like it's a kind of plant, but it's rapidly dissolving, whatever his attempts are to preserve it."  
"Destroy all evidence," Tucker mumbled.  
Jon shot him a look. "You really think you had contact with something down there?"  
"I don't know, Jon. I really don't know. " He scrubbed a hand over his face. "All I know is that I want Malcolm out of sickbay and back with me. Now and then I feel like I had lost him, like he was dying in my arms, but I heard the doc. Just bruises. Nothing bad." He shook his head. "Whatever happened, whatever those weird dreams or memories are, I want to forget them."  
Archer was silent, studying his friend. There were no questions as to what the dreams were, what kind of memories Trip had. There was only the wordless offer to talk to him if Tucker wanted to. Jon would have an open ear. Trip gave him a faint smile, thanking him just as wordlessly. He didn't want to talk right now. He would. Sometime later. But not now. Now he needed the presence of his friend, the reality of Enterprise and the stars, and the hope to hold his lover in his arms tonight.

* * *

Their lovemaking had been intense. Tender, gentle, slow, but very intense. It was like both of them needed the reassurance that the other was real, unharmed, simply there. Trip had never had this feeling before. He wanted to crawl inside his lover, be with him so closely that there was no difference between them any more. He wanted to become one. At the same time he needed to be himself, claim the man he loved, mark him as his, feel him, hear him, taste him. He wanted Malcolm to do the same, kiss him senseless, feel his hands and mouth, everything.  
Now, after the long, incredibly sensual hours, both men lay in a tangled heap of arms and legs, Trips head buried against one shoulder of his lover, feeling strong but gentle fingers brush over his side. There was nothing left inside him except for the raw needy love he had for Malcolm Reed. He didn't know when they had last had such a wild yet erotic night, such incredible sex that left them wiped and still wanting more. After two years, sex wasn't the primary drive any more. After two years, the relationship was expressed through different means that included sex but didn't revolve solely around it. But now, tonight, it had been like that first week. That first month. Take and be taken. Mark and be marked. Feel, touch, taste...  
Lips brushed over his hair and Trip kissed a patch of skin, hugging Malcolm closer. He wanted to feel all of him against him, to know that he was safe and sound. He needed to reassure himself that his lover was indeed alive and well. No words were needed to express what the other knew his lover felt. All had been explained in their actions. Something had occurred on that planet; something neither could remember. Baker had no memories either. It was frightening, especially considering that two more scans had revealed nothing. Whatever had happened, it had been wiped from their minds.  
He held his lover closer, inhaling his scent. Somehow, he believed that whatever it was, it would speak of pain and near-loss. It would show him Malcolm Reed bleeding, broken, near death. It would show him what he feared the most. But there had been no wounds on both of them.  
The hand stroking him held him now, returning the hug. Malcolm knew. Felt the same. Nothing anyone said could take that fear away from either of them. It wasn't something out of a dream, a faint memory twisted into a nightmare by the human mind. It was a memory that had been twisted into a dream.  
Reed pushed himself up so he was looking down at his lover. The expression in those gray-blue eyes was intense love, need, reassurance, warmth and something Malcolm held uniquely for Trip.  
A promise.  
No. More than a promise.  
A vow.  
Trip reached up and pushed some strands of hair out of his face. Reed kissed the hand, trailing his lips over the inside of his wrist. Tucker wrapped both arms around his lover and held him close. He placed a kiss on the side Malcolm's neck. Trip could feel his heart beat strong and steady against his lips.  
Hopefully the strange feelings would fade. For both of them. It was all he wanted right now, aside from Malcolm in his arms.  
And Malcolm was all he needed.  
I love you, he thought, smiling as he listened to deep, regular breaths of the man in his arms. Asleep. Safe. With him.  
I love you.

* * *

As they always say, all good things come to an end. In Malcolm Reed's case, it meant he no longer had just hazy memories of his time on the barren world. It wasn't just a dream about something that might or might not have happened. As the days went by, the subliminal feelings of something being amiss, the muted terror of the unknown that was lurking the shadows grew. Slowly but steadily.  
Reed sighed as he looked at the tangled wires and chips. Now and then, small short circuits caused big problems. At the moment, torpedo tube one was malfunctioning and after checking the read-outs, the armory officer had come to the conclusion that it had to be one of the circuit boards inside the tube. So he had crawled inside, and was currently laying on his back, staring at the miscreant. It was a matter of minutes to repair the damage.

 _//Malcolm was exhausted as he stumbled into a kind of smaller version of the chamber he had fallen into. He gasped for air and his throat began to ache again. He felt like someone had tried to strangle him, which in fact someone had. Someone who was still following him and he didn't even have to look too hard to find a trail. He was bleeding all over the cavern ground.//_

Malcolm blinked and for a moment, he wondered what had happened. His heart suddenly raced and sweat beaded his forehead. He noticed the tremors in his hands, tremors that ran through is whole body. His lungs seemed to be unable to get enough air and the first signs of panic rose.

 _//The walls around him were covered with new carvings and paintings and there was only one door. It was on the other side of the chamber. Reed was so tired. He just hoped Baker had managed to contact the ship, alert the captain, get help. He would do anything to keep that thing possessing Trip busy. The challenge was simple: run and try to make it out, and he would live. Fail, and he would die.//_

Reed flung himself out of the torpedo tube into the thankfully empty armory, sliding down to the floor, gasping, panting, his whole body wreaked by shivers. He hugged himself, curling in on himself, eyes squeezed shut.

 _//He felt the presence of someone else. His instincts, honed by years of training, screamed in alarm. He whirled round and discovered Trip, no, the thing, standing only a few meters away from him. The armory officer moved away from the possessed man._   
_"It is no use hiding," the thing said matter-of-factly._   
_"We never meant to come here!" Reed croaked. "It was an accident!"_   
_"Your words mean nothing."_   
_"You can't just kill everyone who comes here! It's not fair!"_   
_Trip cocked his head, his eyes still pure white as he watched the other man. "I do as I please."//_

A soft moan escaped the trembling man and pressed himself against the cool metal of the armory walls. His mind fought against the images, his instincts screaming at him.  
Where were they coming from? What was happening to him?

 _//He swam in a sea of nothingness. There was no light, no shadow, no pain, no nothing._   
_Pain._   
_A faint memory of pain stole itself upon him and he looked down his body -- only to stop in surprise. He had no body. But the memory of pain remained._   
_Pain and the voice of a friend._   
_Puzzled he tried to drag more of the memories to the surface of this strange state of consciousness._   
_Pain._   
_Incredible, unbelievable pain._   
_Someone called his name._   
_Whispers began to overshadow the other voice. Whispers he recalled from somewhere but couldn't place._   
_Someone begged him to hold on. Someone was out there, somewhere in the grayness, still begging, still calling, telling him not to give up, to hold on..... to fight._   
_With an effort he tried to move from where he was and get to the voice, but he couldn't move. Every time he tried the pain increased. It was like a living barrier between him and the voice._   
_Weak._   
_Tired._   
_Sleep._   
_The grayness around him was oppressive. He fought against the ever-tightening walls of gray against gray, but it was a fight he was losing. He was too weak, too tired. The pain was omnipresent._   
_And the whispers grew._

 _< He is a fighter. Delightful>//_

Malcolm felt tears stream down his cheeks, tears of pain and fear.

*

He stood under the shower and let the water pound his exposed back. It cascaded over his skin, washing away the cold sweat, warming his body. But his soul remained frozen. Malcolm raised his head, water dripping from wet strands of hair, obscuring his sight. Again and again he thought he saw the images, but they were growing faint now. Again and again he wanted to know, but shied away from them. They were.. disquieting. Unsettling.  
What was happening to him? What was going on? And why?  
He turned off the water and reached for a towel, drying himself. Padding into his quarters, Reed gazed at the bed and shivered. He didn't want to go to sleep. Instinct told him not to even attempt it. So he redressed and backed down to the armory once more.  
Work. It would help.  
At least he prayed it would.

* * *

The changes had been subtle. At first, Trip hadn't even believed anything was amiss. He and Malcolm were simply caught up in their work, but as the days passed into a week, he found that his lover was avoiding him. Not outright, no. Reed was working with him on the bridge, interacted with him on duty, but off duty... something always came between them. And it was always Malcolm who had an excuse.  
Ever since they had come back from that luckless exploration to the planet ten days ago, where they had ended up in sickbay later. That strange planet where Trip still believed that something had happened to them that neither could remember. The planet of which he dreamed sometimes. Strange, disjointed dreams that left him in a haze of confusion and sometimes outright fear.  
And the dreams had increased as of late.  
That was another reason why he hadn't really pursued the issue with Malcolm. He didn't want him to be there when the nightmares hit him, asking what was wrong. Because Trip Tucker had no explanation ready. He couldn't even recall half of what disturbed his sleep, and the rest was just... plain weird.  
But enough was enough now. He had to talk to the lieutenant, find out what was bothering his partner, and the best way was to find him somewhere alone and make him talk.  
So Tucker walked into the armory, the likeliest place to find Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, and found him working on something or other. He was completely absorbed in his work and Trip found himself smiling fondly. His lover and weapons. Damn if he knew what fascinated the man so much. Deadly weapons, things that blew up bigger things, torpedoes and phasers and shields. It was Malcolm's world and he excelled in it. It was one reason why the captain had chosen him. Top of his class and with a quick mind that used what was at his disposal to do what needed to be done. Even if that meant building something from scratch with parts that had been originally intended for something else.  
Trip, still smiling, approached Malcolm. "Hey, there you are," he called and touched one arm.  
The next thing he knew he was laying on the floor, staring at the business end of a phase pistol, two wide, gray-blue eyes fixed on him. Two almost feral eyes in a face that showed near-panic.  
"Whoa, Mal, it's me!" he cried, holding out his hands in a disarming gesture.  
Reed inhaled shakily and minute tremors ran through him, but his gun arm was rock steady. His features were pale, almost like out of stone, and there were lines in that face Trip had never seen before.  
"Trip...?" Malcolm stuttered.  
"Yes, it's me. Put down the weapon."  
The phaser pointed at him another two long seconds, then it was lowered. But the expression in Reed's face didn't change. It was one of barely contained terror and the distinct need to be far far away from here.  
Away from Trip.  
Terror of Trip.  
Tucker swallowed and slowly got up, each movement measured.  
"Mal?" he whispered softly, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.  
"I.. I apologize," Malcolm finally managed, voice hoarse. "You startled me..."  
"I'll say. Are you okay?"  
A shaking hand through the tousled, chocolate brown hair. "Yes. Yes, I think I am..."  
"Liar," Trip chastised him gently.  
He wanted to close the distance, take the man he loved into his arms, but a voice told him not to. Malcolm was skittish right now, easily frightened off, and he wanted to know why.  
Expressive eyes me this and Trip was shocked by how far his lover's walls had gone down, how much he could see in the gray eyes. He hadn't been the only one with sleep problems then. It had affected Malcolm, too. Worse than Tucker. Much worse.  
"Was there anything you wanted, sir?"  
The politely voiced question drew Trip out of his thoughts and he winced at the official form of address. Reed was visibly fighting to keep himself together.  
"No. Well, yes. I was wondering if you wanted to join me for a drink after work." Trip tried to sound normal, but he knew he was failing. "My quarters."  
There was that flare again. Panic. Terror. Fear. It stabbed Tucker in his very soul.  
"Uh, sure."  
He managed a smile, but it was far from his usual one. "Say eight?"  
"That would be fine."  
Trip left the armory, absent-mindedly massaging slightly bruised muscles.

 _//A fist drove into his side, stealing his breath, and for a moment he could think clearly again. He looked down._   
_No!_   
_His hands were wrapped around Malcolm's throat, squeezing the life out of him.//_

Tucker stood like rooted to the spot, breath quickening, a cold sweat breaking out all over his body.  
His nightmare. Clear as daylight. And he wasn't even sleeping.  
Gawd... what was going on here?

* * *

Malcolm approached his lover's quarters, feeling the panic rise with every step. It was an irrational feeling, a fear he couldn't place. Good heavens, the man was his lover! Had been for a long time now. He trusted Trip, with his life, his heart, his soul.

 _//A hand closed around his throat, squeezing mercilessly. Trip's face, emotionless, hovering above him//_

Reed inhaled sharply. The images had come to haunt him on a daily basis now. Not just at night, as confusing dreams that left him afraid of the dark, afraid of something he couldn't even describe. Now they were in his waking mind as well, staying there. Flashbacks happened, like down in the armory this afternoon. For a brief second he hadn't seen Trip Tucker; he had seen something that looked like him, with white eyes, an expressionless face, and the intent to hurt him. He had reacted out of instinct against the perceived threat.  
And he had nearly shot his lover.  
Reed screwed his eyes shut, standing in front of the quarters he had been to so often before.  
Nothing to be afraid of, Malcolm, he told himself. You love this man.  He knows you like no one else does. You trust him implicitly.  
"Come," the familiar voice could be heard from inside, slightly muffled, as he rang.  
Reed steeled himself and stepped inside.  
Only to freeze as the overlapping images were back.

 _//There was a strange whispering in the air. Like voices, talking to each other, just out of his hearing. He strained to catch anything, but it was of no use._   
_From one second to the other, the shadows of the room moved. It was impossible to say if the thing had been there before or not, but it seemed to ooze out of the darkness as if it was a part of it. Trip's eyes suddenly rolled up in his head and he collapsed, but Malcolm had no chance to react. The creature slammed into him. One of the claws opened a deep wound in his side and as Reed stumbled away from the attacker. The second swipe threw him into the cavern's wall and he slumped forward, unconscious before he even hit the ground.//_

"Malcolm! Mal!"  
Someone touched his face and he was tugged into an embrace. Instinctively he clung to that presence until he registered who it was.  
Trip.  
His attacker.  
Trip, who had tried to kill him.  
He pushed away and scrambled back, one hand reaching for his throat. He met the confused and hurt blue eyes. "Trip..." he stammered. "I..."  
"You fear me," the engineer whispered, realization hitting him.  
"No!" He shook his head.  
"You are terrified of me. My touch..." Trip's voice wavered and his face mirrored the emotional pain he felt at the revelation.  
Reed fell against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. "I don't know anything any more," he moaned. "The flashbacks... the memories..."  
Trip sank to his knees, keeping his distance. "Of the planet?"  
A nod.  
"I have them, too. Strange, disjointed, hazy. Most of them not makin’ much sense."  
"Be thankful," Reed murmured, his voice holding a tremor. "Mine are a lot clearer."  
"Of me." It wasn't a question. "What do you see?"  
The fear was back, the panic. He locked gazes with the familiar eyes, tried to see the blueness instead of something pure white and evil. This was Trip, not the creature. It was the man who loved him, who knew him better than even his own parents, who had touched something in his soul that he had thought didn't exist.  
"Malcolm?"  
The soft voice drew him to his partner, gave him something to focus on. You trust him, a voice reminded him. With your life.  
A life he had tried to take.  
Reed moaned softly. "A nightmare," he finally answered. "I see a nightmare. You. But then again, not you. Trying to... kill me."  
Tucker blanched and one hand wanted to reach out, but he let it fall back again, unsure. Reed chewed on his lower lip, something he normally wasn’t prone doing. He saw the need in his lover to reassure him, to touch him, but there was also the awareness of just what his touch might do to the frightened armory officer.  
"I see the cave we fell into. And there is something, watching us. And there is you. Something in you. You look different and you want to kill me."  
"And you see it whenever you look at me?" Trip sounded lost, afraid... so small.  
"Not always. But it keeps getting worse. Sometimes it's in my waking mind as well. When I look at you, I see the memories."  
"Sometimes I do, too."  
Malcolm shot him a pleading look and Tucker sighed. "I see you. I'm.... stranglin’ you."  
Reed flinched as if he had been slapped and if it was at all possible, he paled even more.  
"Trip, what happened down there?" he whispered.  
"I don't know," the commander answered softly. "I only know that we need help figurin’ it out."  
He gazed at the man opposite him.  
"We also have to tell the captain."  
A wordless nod.  
Trip rose slowly to his feet and stretched out a hand. "Mal?" he begged.  
A hesitant hand touched his, cold fingers curling around it. Tucker pulled him up, but resisted the urge to also tug him into an embrace. Malcolm let go of his hand.  
"Trip... I'm sorry," he murmured.  
"No, don't be. Somethin’ happened. I'm not sure what, or if it was real, but we’ll find out." He gave his lover a reassuring smile.

* * *

Jonathan Archer looked back and forth between his two officers, noting the fine lines of stress on Trip's features and the not so fine lines on Reed's. He had known the two men for over two years now, had seen their relationship grow, had watched them interact on a daily basis - as lovers and as colleagues. They kept their professional distance while on duty, but right at the moment, he wouldn't describe it as professional distance any more. Malcolm sat in the chair farthest from his partner, visibly strained, and Trip looked like he wanted to vacate the premises just to take the pressure off his lover -- while equally having the urge to comfort him, take him into his arms.  
Something had happened to the two men in the planet. None of the Away Team had any memories, but there were faint recollections or, in Reed's position, fully-fledged nightmares.  
"What about Phlox?" he now asked.  
Tucker shook his head. "No offense to the doc, but I think this is way above his head. He's no psychologist either. We need help, but not medical help. Somethin's blockin' our memories, but it's leakin'. In Mal's case, it's spurtin' forth nightmares."  
Malcolm's face was a mask, but his eyes briefly locked with Trip's. Archer saw the pleading for understanding in there and Trip smiled reassuringly. It was a weak reassurance at best. Tucker was as struck by it all as Reed was.  
Now his chief engineer looked at the forth person in the room. T'Pol had been silent throughout the narratives from both men, recollections they had, nightmares, reactions and thoughts.  
"I'm askin' for you help, Sub-Commander," he said.  
"Trip... T'Pol isn't a trained psychologist either," Archer reminded him calmly, then looked at his science officer. "No offense."  
None taken, her eyes told him, as she remained silent.  
"Ah know that, Capt'n, but if anyone aboard this ship can help us, I think it's her. Sub-Commander?"  
The Vulcan regarded the blond silently for a moment, then her eyes flitted over to Reed. "I might be able to help you, Commander. The question is, do you want to recall events that were closed off from your minds for a reason?"  
Malcolm gave a bark of laughter. "Closed off? I wouldn't say so. It's coming back and it's bloody painful!"  
T'Pol was unfazed by the outbreak. "Your minds were altered, your memories locked away. Whatever was on the planet had a reason to do so."  
"Like I said," the lieutenant repeated through gritted teeth. "It's coming back, no matter what the reason for locking it away was. I can't go on like this! I can't go on seeing Commander Tucker strangling me, seeing some kind of alien in him!"  
Archer gave his science officer a small nod of approval as she glanced at him.  
"Very well," T'Pol answered. "There are techniques. Vulcan meditation techniques. They might help."  
"Whatevah," Trip murmured.  
"It might also be of help to return to the planet," T'Pol went on and Archer noticed the sudden loss of color in Malcom's face.  
It was frightening to see the usually so collected and unfazed security officer turn a shade of grayish white that Jonathan would normally associate with a corpse.  
"Sir...!" he started to protest, then fell silent, visibly fighting down his terror.  
"Captain, whatever occurred, it left scars on both the lieutenant and the commander's minds. I cannot promise that the meditation alone will heal them. We have to consider going back and finding whatever caused the memory block."  
Archer frowned, then nodded slowly. It sounded logical. Coming from T'Pol, it was logical. He looked at Trip, then at Malcolm.  
"We'll head back," he decided. "It'll take us a while, but maybe it's the only way."  
"Understood," the engineer said, looking at his lover.  
Reed swallowed, then pulled himself together. "Sir," he agreed.  
The captain pushed the call button. "Archer to Mayweather."  
"Mayweather here, sir."  
"Change course, Travis. We're heading back to our last stop."  
"Yes, sir," the Ensign acknowledged.

* * *

 _//Trip felt like hovering in some kind of vast grayness. All around him lightning flashed, and now and then there were small, dark spots hovering through the grayness. He heard faraway voices, too. They sounded faintly familiar. He tried to move towards the voices, but found he was fixed to the spot - wherever that was. Not the man to give up after the first attempt, Trip tried again, this time with more force. And he felt a weakening in the invisible barrier that surrounded him. He pushed again and heard the voices coming nearer, growing in volume. One sounded like .... Baker? Yes, Baker. And then there was another one. Malcolm! He felt a rush of emotions as he recognized his lover's voice. Malcolm was there. And .... his own voice? But he wasn't talking to them, was he? He pushed again and again, trying to get out, and every time he pushed he got further and further._   
_Suddenly he felt like he was flung down a tunnel of swirling lights, and a picture popped up in front of him. The picture of Baker, writhing on the ground, a look of pain on his face. His hazel eyes stared at him in shock and horror. Trip gasped, aghast. Then something knocked the picture aside. He realized that it had been him who had been knocked aside. An instant later, Malcolm's face appeared above him, stark white, his gray-blue eyes blazing with barely suppressed anger and fear. A pair of hands, his hands, curled around Reed's throat and started to squeeze. Malcolm gagged and Trip was horrified. He was killing his friend. His lover... the man he had been together with for two years now. God! He tried to move his hands away from his friend's throat but he had no control._   
_"Foolish move!" a voice hissed that rightfully belonged to Trip, but it wasn't really him speaking those words. There was an edge of steel and cold-blooded hatred in the voice that made Trip shiver._   
_Again and again he felt a distant pain in his ribs. The pain gave him something to focus on and he felt how he slowly got closer to that part that gave him control over his own body. It was like wading through knee-deep jelly, but somehow he managed to get back control. He opened his hands, releasing Malcolm from his grip. The lieutenant crawled away, coughing, trying to get some distance between himself and Trip. The engineer was numb with horror. He had tried to kill his lover! He had actually tried to ..... He cried out and clutched his head as something threatened to overwhelm him, shoving him back to where he had just come from: the gray emptiness. But he wouldn't go! He just wouldn't!_   
_< Do you feel this?> a voice asked._   
_Trip whirled around, staring into the uniform grayness. "Who are you?"_   
_< He belongs to me> another voice growled._   
_< This emotion... so strange>_   
_"Who are you?" Trip yelled, nerves fraying. He had to get out of here!_   
_< Curious. I have to watch> the first mused._   
_< He is delicious. I won't let him go. His pain is... nourishing.>_   
_"This is my partner you are talking about, you bastards!" Trip screamed._   
_There was something out there. Something watching him. And Malcolm. Watching and studying._   
_The presence around him intensified and he was forced deeper into the grayness._   
_"No!" Trip hissed. "No, I won't do it!"_   
_He pushed the presence back, but it was too strong. He seemed to fly backwards, the picture of Malcolm getting smaller and smaller. Then he was alone again, only the grayish emptiness around him._   
_"No! Let me out!" He whirled round to find something that looked like an exit, but found nothing. He was really alone. And whatever thing it was that possessed his body, it used him to kill his lover......//_

Tucker's eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply. A tremor went through his body. His wildly roaming eyes fixed on the small array of meditation candles, took in the faint scent they gave off, and he felt something inside of him calm down.  
"You are okay, commander," T'Pol's voice reached his conscious mind. "It was a memory."  
He swallowed and nodded, but he couldn't stop shaking. A memory. A nightmare.  
"One hell of a memory," he whispered hoarsely, focusing on the candle.  
"It seems you were host to an entity you encountered on the planet," the Vulcan told him dispassionately.  
"Somethin's that tried to kill Malcolm," Trip managed, voice rough. "Oh my gawd...."  
"It would explain Lieutenant Reed's nightmares."  
"It explains just about everythin'. Damnit!"

 _// <He is strong> the first voice remarked, a curious tone to its voice._   
_< Agreed. You chose well.>_   
_Trip screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to breach the barrier that was around him. It was physical. Invisible but still everywhere, holding him in a prison cell that had no lock and no bars._   
_Malcolm, please hold on, he whispered in his mind. I know you can beat this thing._   
_< There it is again. The strange fluctuation I can't place> the first voice noted._   
_< Is it of consequence?> the other wanted to know, sounding rather displeased._   
_< Apparently. I will watch it further. Do you think he will be able to survive a direct challenge?>_   
_< No>_   
_There was such a finality to the word that Trip almost choked._   
_"Malcolm!"//_

He closed his eyes and pushed his fists into them. He had tried to choke his lover to death. That was what Malcolm remembered. No wonder he was scared shitless of him. No wonder he didn't want him to touch him. Drawing a shaky breath, he straightened. The muted lighting of T'Pol's quarters helped in collecting himself, but the memories still raged through him.  
"Now that we have determined the source of your and Lieutenant Reed's nightmares, we must device a way to calm your fears, let your rational minds take over," T'Pol explained.  
"Yeah, well, Ah hope you got somethin' in mind. Ah'd be happy to touch Mal again without findin’ mahself with a phaser in mah face," Trip murmured, his accent thickening with his rising exhaustion.  
It had been another week since the decision to ask T'Pol for help. Malcolm still unconsciously shied away from him and there wasn't even a thought of asking him to stay with Tucker for a night. Although Trip felt he wanted his lover near him, needed his reassuring presence to help him through this terrible nightmare – and wanted to be there for the traumatized man, wanted to see Malcolm look at him without this flicker of terror in the beloved eyes. He would do just about everything to have that back, have Malcolm back. Because if Malcolm felt like he did, he was damn lonely at the moment.  
"I can think of several methods that might help."  
"Good. S'appreciated." Trip rose slowly and looked at the Vulcan. "A lot."  
She gave a brief nod. "I propose another session tomorrow, together with Lieutenant Reed. I believe it is time to confront your nightmares in each other's presence."  
"Whatever you say, Sub-Commander."  
Trip returned to his quarters, feeling wiped out but not enough to sleep. He dreaded sleep anyway. By now, with T'Pol uncovering the memories, his mind was running him through all kinds of horrendous scenarios. He couldn't just shove it all away like a Vulcan. Humans were emotional; they wanted to deal with it. Right now, though, he wished he could handle it like T'Pol. It would make things so much easier.

* * *

It had taken them two weeks to return to the planet. The crew was wondering what was going on, but no one outright challenged the decision. Rumors circulated among the men and women, coming forth by the odd behavior from their resident senior staff couple. While Malcolm and Trip were both still on duty, there had been changes. Subtle, but noticeable. What wasn't so subtle was the lack of silent communication between the two men, the way Reed kept himself distanced from his superior, and the rumors grew that the two men were breaking up.  
Hoshi Sato watched the armory officer as he poked at his lunch. He looked like he had lost weight and with someone so slim already, it showed drastically. She didn't listen to rumors much. She liked to make her own opinions, and while everything looked like Trip and Malcolm had broken up, there were signs that it wasn't so. Since they were returning to the planet, Hoshi mused that maybe it had something to do with that. Something had happened there, but no one had an idea what. Archer was tense, close-mouthed and there were worry lines on his face. Add that to the strange behavior from Tucker and Reed, and Hoshi came to the conclusion that whatever had occurred on the planet, it played a huge part in the current strained relationship.  
Reed left the table and dumped most of his lunch in the disposal unit. Hoshi sighed. She hoped things would get better soon.

In those two weeks, T'Pol had worked with both Reed and Tucker, teaching them relaxation exercises, confronting them with the memories that turned into nightmarish recollections of Trip pursuing Malcolm and trying to kill him. Her goal was to make them realize that they could influence the nightmares, deal logically with them, confront the horror and turn it into a victory of mind over instinct.  
The first few days had been a living hell. For both. While Malcolm's memories ran as far as being jumped by some monstrous shadow creature, then were cut off, Trip's went further.

 _//His return to consciousness was like rushing down a tunnel. One moment he was in the vast grayness, the next he was back in his own mind, where a massive headache had taken hold behind his eyes. Trip groaned and blinked his eyes open, the headache intensifying. What he saw rallied him back into alertness._   
_Not far from where he lay, a massive, dark thing towered over the limp form of his lover. The thing turned to him and for the first time, he had a good look at it. Trip shuddered in revulsion. It was covered in what looked like scales, glistening wetly, and there were odd, tumor-like bulges everywhere. The muscular arms ended in clawed fingers and there were bone-like protrusions along the spine. It spit and hissed, then came toward Trip._   
_Tucker grabbed his phaser. He raised the weapon and fired a shot, but the creature didn't even seem to feel a sting. It swiped at the blond man and Trip ducked, only to feel a second swipe slam into his leg and hip. There was a dry sound of breaking bone and he cried out in pain. He landed on his knees, his right leg on fire, and was trying to crawl away. He fired again and again. Blind panic threatened to overrun his mind. The third shot had some effect by then, making the thing shake its head, then stagger back. Still, it decided to go forward again, attack._   
_Oh gawd... what did it take to make it fall? Trip thought desperately, his trigger finger twitching again and again._   
_The sixth shot finally had the thing stop, rumble, and then snarl. It regarded its victim, contemplating whether or not Trip was worth the effort._   
_Go away, the engineer screamed in his mind._   
_No such luck. With a roar, the bipedal lunged forward._   
_Trip yelled as he fired the phaser, even though the thing seemed to be immune._   
_That's it. It's over...._   
_He saw the massive body fly at him, fangs bared, claws poised to strike his vulnerable body._   
_Whispers were in the air, coming from everywhere around him. He thought he recognized the voices from somewhere. And then something struck the creature in turn._   
_Trip gasped as he discovered another darkness take form. It was shapeless, but huge. Something lunged at the creature, threw it across the cavern and it hit the wall, shrieking. The darkness struck again and Trip's blurry eyesight seemed to play tricks on him. Their attacker was withering away before his eyes, shriveling, sinking in onto itself, and then was simply gone._   
_He was alone again. The other attacker was gone, too._   
_His mind was trying to deal with what had happened, but his instinct and something else were crying at him to move._   
_"Malcolm..." he rasped, staggering to his feet. His right leg almost immediately gave out under him and he gripped it with a yell. He felt something warm and sticky cling to his fingers._   
_Blood, he noted absent-mindedly. That thing got me good._   
_Dizzy, barely able to think, and close to throwing up, he crawled painfully over to Reed._   
_Yes, the creature had gotten him, but not like it had mangled the lieutenant who still lay unconscious where he had fallen. His uniform was saturated in blood and his face was a pasty white, almost translucent. He wasn't moving._   
_"Malcolm?" Trip whispered, his own breathing coming in harsh gasps. "Lord, no. Please... Mal, c'mon... wake up..."_   
_More whispers could be heard, just at the edge of his hearing._

 _< I recognize the fluctuations. What does love mean, though?>_

 _He touched Reed's neck and searched for a pulse. With a soft sigh, he discovered that there still was one. Malcolm was alive. He was badly hurt, but alive. Fumbling through his pockets, he tried to grip his communicator, but his hands were slick with blood and the device tumbled onto the sandy floor._   
_And then he realized something else. He more felt than heard the movement and something inside of him scolded him for ignoring the second creature. It had taken care of their attacker, but it was still there, and probably the alpha hunter in this cave. The other had been an intruder and therefore been eliminated. Now it was time to claim the prize._   
_Trip's vision was waving in and out of focus, drops of sweat beaded his forehead and he was trembling from pain, exhaustion and blood loss. But he would be damned if he let that bastard get him and Malcolm without a fight. Clenching his fingers around the phaser, he aimed at the wavering black form, shapeless, huge, and coming closer. His heart hammered in his chest and he swallowed as he tried to decide where to aim._   
_The decision was made for him._   
_A huge, black tentacle detached itself from the black mass, snaking forward. Trip fired, but the shot went wide as a second tentacle struck out and hit his arm. He gasped, unable to voice his pain otherwise anymore, and the phaser went flying. It landed with a hollow 'clank' only a few feet away. In his condition, it could have been light-years. The tentacle that had struck now wrapped itself around one arm and this time Trip did scream as he was dragged to the side and away from Malcolm. He fought. God, he fought as much as he could, but waves of darkness rolled over his mind. The pain was incredible._   
_A third tentacle appeared, writhing toward Malcolm._   
_"No!" he breathed. "NO! Leave 'im alone, you son of a bitch!"_   
_The whispers were like hissing static. They tickled his hearing, they played along his fraying nerves._

 _< Can you feel it? He would die for the other>_

 _Trip struggled more, but the vice-like hold on his arm didn't lessen. The second tentacle had by now come to hover above his broken leg and probably very bruised hip. It flattened, then descended until it touched the blood-covered uniform._   
_Trip screamed._   
_He tried to twist away, but the thing held him down as it flowed over the injury, a curiously warm as well as cold sensation. Tucker gave a harsh sob as bone grated against bone, and made a last effort to get away, but it failed as well. He limply fell back onto the cold cavern floor, turning his head to gaze at Malcolm. He, too, was being examined or whatever by that strange creature, but he was completely oblivious to it._   
_"Mal...." he moaned._   
_This wasn't how he had thought it would end._   
_I love you, Trip whispered in his mind._   
_The darkness danced around him, part of it covering his injuries and his chest by now. The tentacle had freed his arm, but it felt like lead and he was unable to move. His eyes never left Reed's still face._   
_I love you.//_

Someone touched him and Trip's eyes flew open, gazing into the familiar gray-blue orbs of his lover. It was the first time in too long that Malcolm had consciously touched him again. Tucker, shaking from what he had unearthed from his memory, raked his eyes up and down the younger man, looking for wounds he had just seen in his nightmare. It was the whole sequence this time. Not fragments, but what he had seen, what had been locked away from him for so long. A bleeding, broken Malcolm Reed, possibly dying.  
The hand touched his cheek, and he leaned into the sensation, holding the insecure gaze of his lover. Carefully, he reached for the hand on his face, curling his fingers around one wrist. Oh so careful because every wrong touch could be misinterpreted as a threat. Trip didn’t want to be a threat. He wanted to be comfort again. He pressed his lips against the inside of Malcolm's palm. It was a shy, loving gesture. Reed smiled hesitantly and his thumb rubbed over a pale cheek.  
"Love you," he whispered.  
They were still in the gym they had used frequently for their exercises lately and Trip was aware of the fact that T'Pol was present, but he couldn't care less. Malcolm was touching him. Not just a fleeting gesture but a gentle caress. Lingering, longing... just for him and without the fear that usually accompanied it. It helped deal with the nightmares.  
"Love you," the engineer echoed the vow.  
No terrible wounds, no dying Malcolm, no pain. Just the gentle emotion he felt for this man. Reed entwined their fingers and let the joined hands fall onto Tucker's thighs.  
The memories were clearer now and with it, more frightening. They had begun to make sense, a horrifying sense, and with every light-year they came closer to the planet, the closer Trip came to running to his captain and demanding they turn around. But they had to do this. To get behind this sick game something or someone had played with them. It had to have been a game. Pitting Trip against Malcolm, hurting them both, nearly killing them, and for some reason this thing had put them back together again. No wounds, just bruises.

T'Pol watched them, aware of the progress they had made. Lieutenant Reed allowed himself to be touched by Commander Tucker again. It was a small success, but far from what she had hoped to achieve. The memories unearthed through meditation had proven a deep, mental shock, caused by an alien entity or entities that had played havoc with the human mind, as well as had hurt the two officers quite severely. Her scientific mind was intrigued by the facts, especially the incredible healing qualities of the entity in question.  
But the problems remained and she doubted they could be solved with her limited resources aboard Enterprise or in the immediate future. Both men had been traumatized far beyond her abilities to help, and not even Phlox would be able to assist. On Vulcan, she would have known where to go. Here, all she could do was superficial.  
The only hope was to find the entities who had wiped the human minds.

* * *

"And what if we find them?" Archer asked, looking at his science officer. "What then?"  
"I hope to garner information on how their minds were altered," T'Pol answered calmly. "They locked away traumatic events and healed extensive physical wounds. It would be logical to contact them."  
"What if they don't want to be contacted? What if we end up having two more officers or crewmen traumatized by some sick game?"  
She nodded briefly. "It is a risk."  
"A risk you are willing to take?"  
The calm eyes met his. "It is a question you have to ask yourself, Captain. Lieutenant Reed has faced his nightmares and made significant progress, but I doubt that he will be able to ever forget what happened, let alone be the man he was before. The same conclusion has to be made about Commander Tucker."  
Archer sighed and stared at the screen where the ship's speed and heading told him that they were only a few days away from the planet.  
"Very well," he murmured. "Let's see what happens."

* * *

It was a small triumph. No, more than that. It was a miracle and heaven on earth. Trip kissed his lover's neck and carefully stroked the lean sides, feeling the rhythmic breathing hitch as he brushed over a sensitive spot. Malcolm moaned softly and, encouraged, Tucker pushed the long-sleeved sweater over the smaller man's head. Gray-blue eyes met his, filled with warmth and love, resurrected trust and need.  
But Trip was careful. He went about the seduction of his lover as if it was their first time, and in many ways it was. Just not like that actual first time, when Malcolm had been the one to actively call the shots. This time, it was Trip.  
He trailed his lips over the left collarbone to the neck, then up to the sensual mouth, and kissed his lover. Malcolm opened his lips and let him in, their tongues meeting in a slow dance that soon intensified. Tucker felt his need rise. They hadn't been together since that first night out of sickbay. After that, the nightmares had kept Malcolm away from him. It was almost painful to go so slowly, but he didn't want to chase Reed away, trigger another nightmare that had him see Trip as a monster out to kill him.  
Malcolm suddenly pushed him against the wall, becoming more demanding, forceful, pressing their groins together and making small, gyrating moves.  
"Mal!" the engineer groaned, most of it swallowed by the eager mouth over his.  
"Love me," Reed whispered.  
"I do."  
"Show me," came the husky demand.  
Trip brushed his hands over the pale face, pushed strands of dark hair away and kissed Malcolm's forehead, then his nose. "Are you sure?"  
"Yes." His lips were captured in a long, hard kiss. "Very much."

His heart was hammering in his chest and he was panting. His body was bathed in sweat and he felt strong arms cling to him as the aftermath of his release raged through his system. Trip closed his eyes and let his head fall against Malcolm's, hearing his lover pant. Warm breath gusted over his neck and throat.  
It had been intense. A reaffirmation of their love, their presence, their lives. It had been Malcolm's way of showing him that he was healing, seeing Trip as his lover, not the creature that had attacked him, but it didn't mean their problems were over. The memories still resided in them and could resurface at the most inopportune times. The trauma had not yet been healed.  
Reed nuzzled the place where the neck joined the shoulder and Trip stroked his hair. He reached for the blanket and drew it over them, cocooning himself and his lover into the safe warmth of the bed. Malcolm snuggled closer and Trip held him.  
"You okay?" he asked as the silence grew.  
"Very," came the muffled reply.  
Tucker let his hands caress the smooth skin, tracing patterns. "Thank you," he murmured.  
"What for?" Malcolm turned his head slightly to look at him.  
"Everything, lover. Everything."  
Reed smiled and went back to burying himself against the warmth of Trip's body.  
Tomorrow they would reach the planet.

* * *

The planet was as inhospitable as it was before. Again, rain fell in a never-ending drizzle. But this time, it wasn't a survey team looking for signs of life. This time it was a heavily armed party, led by Jonathan Archer, that walked into the cave. They hadn't taken any of the crewmen along. If those things wanted to 'play' again, Archer didn't want to risk anyone else of his crew getting involved.  
T'Pol held her scanner in the left, the right clutching a phase pistol. Trip and Malcolm were similarly armed, both tense and pale. Malcolm was close to bolting, his eyes darting around the shadows. Tucker kept close to his lover, but not touching him.  
The team arrived at the hole that the earthquake had opened weeks ago. The captain shone a strong flashlight down into the cavern.  
"I know there is someone here!" Archer called, his voice echoing in the vast cave. "Show yourselves."  
Malcolm's hand clenched around the pistol, his knuckles white.  
"We know what you did!" Archer went on, turning 360 degrees, search the cave for any sign of life. "I know what you did to my men. They remember! I want to know why!"  
Whispers suddenly echoed in the cave and Malcolm flinched, his face becoming rigid. The whispers reached out for them, seemed to flow and twist around the men and the Vulcan.  
T'Pol studied her scanner. "Captain, there is something here, but the scanner can't identify it."  
"Is this a language?" Archer wanted to know.  
"The UT can't lock on to it."  
"It's them," Reed murmured.  
Trip stepped closer to his lover, phaser ready.

<It should not have happened>  
<It has. Look at them. They remember the pain>

Archer pivoted again. The voices were at the edge of his hearing, overshadowed by the omni-present whispering.  
"Where are you? Who are you? I can hear you! Show yourselves."

<There is nothing to see>  
<We are simply here> the second voice added.

Malcolm swallowed took a step backward, bumping into Trip. A steadying hand against his lower back made him tense.  
"It's me, Mal," Trip whispered. "Relax."  
"They can do it again," Reed managed hoarsely, fighting the panic.

<We wouldn't. We made a mistake when we took you> the voice told them.  
<We found the meaning of the fluctuation that disturbed us when we had you. You are bonded. We have no right to separate a bonded pair>

"What did you do to us?" Tucker yelled. "Why?"  
He stayed close to his lover, but he didn’t hold him any more. If they had to defend themselves, the brief moment it took Trip to let go of Malcolm might hinder Reed long enough to miss his target. The man was a trained security officer. He needed the room to move.

<We call it the challenge. It is a game, a way to pass time>  
<A way to feed> the second voice added. <To learn and study>

Archer shot his science officer a look, but T'Pol had no data to work with. Her expression said it all.  
"You played with the lives of my men. Why?"

<You wouldn't understand. We cannot explain in terms of your language>  
The whispers faded, then came back, hovering around the two men in question.  
<We believed the mind wipe would work>

"Well, it didn't!" Trip snarled, eyes darting around the cavern. "We remember, you bastards!"  
"Trip!" Archer snapped sharply.  
The engineer gritted his teeth. "You nearly killed us, then patched us up again! You just failed to erase the traces!"

<We regret the return of your memories. It was a mistake. Some species are too hard to figure out>  
<It was a good challenge though> the second voice rumbled.

Malcolm swallowed convulsively and fought down the rising terror. Tremors raced through his body and he felt Trip's warmth next to him, nearer than before. He drew strength from the presence of his lover, but like so many times, when the terror came, Trip Tucker seemed to transform into the creature that had nearly choked him. He squeezed his eyes shut.  
No! No, Trip wasn't this thing. He was the warmth he had felt with him at nights, the touch and scent of someone intimately familiar. He was the voice that could drip like honey over his spine, turn him into goo, make him come. He was the man he loved.  
The whispers concentrated on him.  
His eyes roved wildly around the cavern, searching through the shadows. His breathing became harsh.

<We never intended for you to recall this horror> the first voice said gently.

"Well, too bad!" Tucker growled. "'Cause it's back!"  
He looked around the cave, trying to pinpoint the entities's presence, never leaving Malcolm's side. They would have to go through him to get to his lover again.  
He winced.  
Damn. They had already. Last time they had gone through him. Literally.

<We apologize>

"Too bloody late for that," Malcolm murmured, pale as a sheet by now but still holding his own with sheer desperation.  
He had forced his breathing pattern down again, but he was clinging to a last straw. He was very close to losing it. Any more and he would run and never stop.

<Had we known about the bond, we would not have attempted this. Your... you call it 'love'... broke the lock we placed on your minds> the second voice explained.  
<It was because we hadn't had time to study you>

Reed shivered. Lab rats. That was what they had been.

<We hurt you. Deeply>  
The whispers were now solely focused on the two men.  
<It sits deep. It is driving you apart>  
There was a brief silence.  
<Why did you come back?>

"To find out what happened," Archer answered, slightly unnerved that he was apparently talking to thin air. "You assaulted two of my officers, then wiped their minds. You also messed with a third man's memories of events."

<Does he recall?>

"No. Crewman Baker remains unaffected," T'Pol answered. "Probably because he doesn't share an emotional link like Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker."

<That is correct>  
<We can only offer our apologies> the first voice said. <And maybe a way to permanently deal with this>

Malcolm stiffened. "Permanently?"  
Something seemed to move in the shadows and Reed gritted his teeth so hard, he thought he'd shatter them. But no nightmarish creature came out to attack him or Tucker.

<We leave our players with no memories, free to depart from our world> the first one explained. <Your minds were harder to figure out and we didn’t take the depths of your bond into account. Given the time to study you, we can wipe these events forever from your minds>  
<All of you> the second voice added.

Archer stiffened as well now. “Why?”

<Because if we do not, your friends will be driven apart, maybe lose each other and themselves in what we never meant to happen. It is not how we play>

T’Pol looked up from her scanner again. “It is the only logical solution right now. Aside from leaving and risking permanent mental damage to Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed.”  
“You would let some unknown alien entity mess with your mind?” Archer demanded.  
“It seems to be the only way,” the Vulcan repeated.  
“What about the others on my ship? The logs? We would find irregularities,” the captain growled.

<We will take care of your crew>

“The logs can be purged,” T’Pol added.  
Jonathan Archer’s gaze was drawn to the two men who had been silent in the last few minutes. Malcolm was white as a sheet and barely able to suppress the tremors any more. Trip stood beside him, his features grim, ready to face whatever attacked them, ready to die for Reed if he could save him from further nightmares.  
And those nightmares would probably grow. T'Pol had said she had done all in her powers and that for the mental wounds to heal, more than her abilities were needed. These entities had messed severely with the memories of his chief engineer and armory officer. They had taken them apart and put things back together, blocking the damage from the conscious mind. But it had leaked, and currently was threatening to destroy them. The Vulcans might be able to help.  
Might.  
Or the two men would slowly go insane. Drift apart, leave the other, be without support, and crumble. Their minds wouldn't be able to take the stress of seeing each other and remembering the horror. Jonathan didn't want to see the lovers break up over guilt, fear and never-ending nightmares.  
"Trip? Malcolm?" he asked quietly.  
"You askin' if I'd let these freaks play around in my head again, Capt'n?" Tucker demanded.  
This time it was Reed's hand that closed around his lover's arm, stopping him.  
"Would this stop?" he asked, addressing the room in general. "Would I stop seeing Trip as some horrifying nightmare, strangling me?"

<Yes>

"Then I'll agree."  
"Malcolm!"  
Reed faced his lover. "I know it's the cheap way out, but I... right now, I take what I can get. If this lets me see you as I did before, without having the fear of falling back into this horror, the nightmares, then I'll let them do it."  
"The same bastards that are responsible for this in the first place?" Tucker demanded, face contorted in rage. "The ones that messed us up before?"  
The armory officer inhaled deeply. "Yes. If they can do it right... I'll take the chance." He dropped his voice. "I love you, Trip. I want to look at you, without fear, without feeling the hands around my neck." He bit his lower lip at the shocked expression in the other man's face. "Even with T'Pol's help, the memories return sometimes."  
They gazed at each other and finally Tucker nodded sharply.  
"Okay," he murmured. "Okay."  
Trip inhaled deeply and locked gazes with his best friend. "We're okay with it," he told Archer.  
The darkness shifted and Reed tensed again. Nothing emerged.

<You will feel nothing>

* * *

T'Pol walked through the silent ship. She had done everything to insure that the incidents on the barren world Enterprise was still orbiting would forever be purged from the computer logs. In a few hours, the ship would leave and no one would remember what had happened. It would be nothing but a routine survey in their memories. Rocks and some biosamples were still in the labs, ready to be analyzed. The scientists would find no trace of the aliens there. Those who had been active participants in the 'game' would have no memories of it. For the commander and the lieutenant, it would again stop with the earthquake. They had been in a geologically unstable area, something even their scanners hadn't readily picked up. The two men had fallen, bruised themselves, and Baker, who had been hit by a rock and had been unconscious for a while, had later called for help.  
End of story.  
The Vulcan entered the shuttle bay. She had returned to the ship to do what had to be done. Archer, Reed and Tucker were still on the planet. The captain had insisted to be there while the entities examined the two men, determining what to do to wipe the nightmares forever from their minds. The emotional bond between them was making it more difficult.

*

<We have already begun>  
The whispers grew in intensity.  
<We studied your kind. We have taken the bond into account. All memories will be purged this time>

The darkness moved and T'Pol watched the three humans, all appearing to be in some kind of coma, though they were still standing. Trance might be a better description then.

<But you and one among the ones on your ship are different>

"I'm not human," T'Pol answered calmly. "I am Vulcan. The doctor is Denoblian."

<We can alter his memories> the first voice told her. <He wasn’t here. It is easy>  
<You, we would have to study>

"I can deal with the events," T'Pol told them. "My kind encounters no difficulties in that regard." She faced the darkness.

<It is your choice>

She nodded. "I made it."  
This time, part of the shifting darkness came closer, detaching itself from the walls around her. Still, nothing showed on the scanners. Whatever they were, neither the Vulcans nor any other species had ever encountered something like them before. Or had a method of scanning for them.  
The darkness whispered again, flowing up around Reed and Tucker, covering them.

<They won't be hurt> the first entity promised.

* * *

It was late. The small lounge was empty. It was one of the few very private spots aboard Enterprise and only admissible for the senior staff. The captain chose it for private contemplations sometimes, away from his quarters, the ready room or the mess hall. Tonight, it saw two different men occupying the comfortably large couch, looking at the slowly passing stars. Malcolm Reed sat in one corner of the couch, his chin resting on the blond head of the man laying against his chest. His arms were wrapped around him.  
"Comfortable?" he whispered.  
Trip Tucker had his eyes closed, snuggled into the warm hold, one hand entwined with the hand over his chest. His whole body was relaxed.  
"Very."  
Malcolm smiled and let his head fall against the back of the couch, feeling sleepy and very, very comfortable, too.  
"Love you," Trip murmured sleepily after a long while.  
Reed felt the smile widen and he kissed his lover's hair. "I thought you were sleeping."  
"Ah am," came the muffled reply.  
"Ah, my mistake. And I love you, too."  
Malcolm sank deeper onto the couch and Trip adjusted to his position.  
"Shouldn't we go to your quarters?" Trip sighed.  
"Why? It's cozy here."  
"Someone might walk in."  
"And? It's not like we're keeping secrets," Malcolm teased.  
"Hmpf," was the sleepy mutter. “S’not that.”  
“Then what is it?”  
“More private.”  
The armory officer chuckled. "Just a bit longer. I like to watch the stars."  
"Yeah." Trip squeezed his hand. "S'nice." He twisted around looked at the dark-haired man. "Somethin’ else s'nice."  
"Hm?"  
Tucker reached up and curled his hand around Malcolm’s neck, pulling him down into a slow, sensual kiss.  
"Oh," Reed breathed.  
Trip smiled, tracing the previously kissed lips. “Yeah.” He settled back with a contented sigh and watched the stars.

Neither saw the female figure in the shadows. T'Pol's unreadable gaze was fixed on the two men.  
It had been best like this.  
The only way.  
She would be the only one to remember what had happened, without the actual nightmares the lieutenant and the commander had had to endure. The logs had been altered and she had done her best to forge entries and let them appear as if Enterprise had never encountered the aliens. T'Pol had gone as far as breaking personal log entries and erasing them, destroying all data of the encounter. Enterprise had still visited the planet, had still sent down a survey team. The lieutenant and the commander had still crashed through the ground because of an earthquake. Then they had been rescued.  
The aliens had cleared out the memories of the two men, as well as the crew's, leaving only T'Pol's intact.  
One would remember.  
The one least likely to act on it.


End file.
